


Fearless On My Breath

by dragon_temeraire



Series: Chubby Omega Stiles [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Chubby Stiles, Coming In Pants, Established Relationship, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Insecure Stiles Stilinski, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multiple Orgasms, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Self-Lubrication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 12:06:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11736711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_temeraire/pseuds/dragon_temeraire
Summary: Stiles unexpectedly goes into heat.





	Fearless On My Breath

**Author's Note:**

> The smutty third part of my chubby omega Stiles fics! This one got away from me a little, and ended up being way longer than expected.

Stiles is winded, but it makes him feel better to see Derek a little short of breath himself.

“Okay,” Derek says, scooping up the ball with ease and lifting his crosse. “One more pass, and then we’ll quit.”

He counts to three, then they’re running across Derek’s huge backyard. Derek flings the ball toward him suddenly, when he’s not quite close enough, and Stiles has to pick up his pace to catch it in time, but he manages. He slides to a halt, and flings the ball toward the goal. To his surprise, it hits the net cleanly.

“Yes!” Derek says, jogging up and slinging his arm over Stiles’ shoulder. “That was great, nice throw!”

“Thanks,” Stiles says, leaning into him even though he’s sweaty. “But you know they’re still never gonna let me play on the team.”

Derek frowns at that. “Any alpha who gets distracted by omega pheromones during a game doesn’t deserve to play anyway,” he says firmly. “And with a little more practice, you could really make a good showing at the next tryouts.”

Stiles sighs, lets Derek guide him to the back porch. “They’re all so sure an omega could never play as well as an alpha, or even a beta. They’re never going to give me a chance.” He nudges Derek’s side, wanting to lighten the mood. “Thanks for letting me practice with you. It’s a lot of fun.”

“It is,” Derek says, smiling now. “You want to come over again tomorrow?”

Stiles laughs, and sits heavily on the porch steps. “You gotta give me a little more recovery time then that,” he says. “I’m gonna be so sore tomorrow.” He’s been feeling a bit off the past few days, more achy and fatigued than usual, and he knows he needs to rest up.

“Fair enough,” Derek says, sitting next to him. “You can just let me know if you’re up for hanging out.”

“Of course,” Stiles says. He loves spending time with Derek, and if he’s being honest, he’d like to be around him a lot more. “And as soon as I get up the energy, I’m going to go home and take a shower.”

Derek laughs. “You want me to carry you to your jeep?” he asks teasingly.

“I saw you trip almost as many times as I did today,” Stiles says, grinning. “So no, I’m good.”

He and Derek still end up talking for another twenty minutes before Stiles convinces himself to go. And he gets a couple of kisses on his way out to the driveway, so he considers it a pretty good day.

 

*

 

Stiles starts to feel worse in the evening, his stomach cramping up and his back muscles drawing tight no matter how much he tries to stretch them. He figures it’s because he was running around while it was so hot out, and he drinks a lot of water and goes to bed early.

It’s not until he wakes up in the morning, feverish and yearning, that he realizes what’s been happening to him. _Fuck_.

He and Derek have been dating for more than a month now, but it’s still unusual for Stiles to call him, since he prefers texting or talking in person. So Derek answers with a, “Stiles? What’s up?”

And just hearing Derek’s voice seems to push Stiles’ body on, sending a wave of warmth through him as he clenches up, aching. “I’m going into heat,” he pants out. “And I’m not ready yet. Derek, _I’m not ready_.” His mind keeps repeating it, and he feels suddenly, intensely helpless.

“Okay,” Derek says, obviously trying to stay calm. “Okay. Do you…want me to come over?”

“Yes,” Stiles says, without even thinking about it. It’s been so long since he’s gone through a heat, he doesn’t know if he can handle it alone. “And can you—can you tell my dad? I don’t want him to worry.”

“Of course,” Derek says, and his voice seems more soothing than usual. “I’ll let him know, and I’ll be there soon.”

Stiles makes a noise of agreement, then curls up under his blankets, shivering. He must drift off, because suddenly comes awake to the sound of someone tapping at his bedroom door. “Derek?” he asks weakly, lifting his head partway off of his pillow.

The door opens and Derek is there, and Stiles feels his whole body uncoil in relief. He’s pretty sure he makes an embarrassing whimpering sound, but Derek doesn’t seem to notice.

“Your dad gave me a key,” he explains, walking over to the bed. “He’ll be on patrol all night, but he’ll be back tomorrow morning, okay?” He reaches out to brush the hair off Stiles’ forehead, then jerks away.

The next thing he knows, Derek is pulling all his covers away from him. “Hey,” he protests, scrabbling for them.

“You’re too hot, you’re going to cook yourself under there,” Derek says, yanking the blankets all the way off and piling them on the floor.

Stiles shivers, somehow hot and cold at the same time, and stays curled up on his side. He never remembered his heats being this bad before.

“I think this is going to be a rough one, because you haven’t had a heat in so long,” Derek says, seeming to read his mind. He gently touches Stiles’ cheek, and Stiles nuzzles into it gratefully. “I know you’re cold, but if you stretch out, I can lay down with you.”

Stiles shuffles over immediately at that, sliding his legs down so fast that his pajama pants ruck up. He still has chills running through him, but Derek helps when he lays down next to Stiles. He radiates heat, and Stiles presses against him, tucking himself against Derek’s chest.

Derek seems to hesitate before gently curling his arms around him, and Stiles knows it’s because he’s never this openly tactile. But the heat has burned away most of his inhibitions, and he just _doesn’t care_. He drags his nose along Derek’s neck, breathing in his alpha scent.

It soothes some of his longing, but seems to encourage his heat at the same time, increasing his arousal. Derek’s body against his doesn’t exactly help either, and it’s not long before Stiles is achingly hard. He lays still for as long as he can, but eventually the thrumming need running through him makes his hips jolt forward into Derek.

“Sorry,” he says breathlessly, trying to wriggle away. He shouldn’t have let Derek come here, this is just going to tease him—

“It’s okay,” Derek says, though his voice sounds a little tight. “It’s okay if you need to. I don’t mind.”

“I—are you sure?” Stiles says, lips brushing Derek’s neck. He’s at the height of his arousal, if Derek wants to go, he has to do it _now_.

“Yes,” Derek says, resting a hand on Stiles’ waist and pulling him closer, encouragingly.

Stiles groans as he ruts forward against Derek’s body, rolling his hips in short, desperate little thrusts. He knows he’s wet, can feel the slick between his legs, but before he can even think about begging Derek to push his fingers inside him, he’s surging forward and coming. Tremors rack his body as the pleasure rushes through him, and he eventually calms, feeling at least temporarily sated.

He drifts a little, but comes back to reality when Derek grits out, “ _Stiles_. Stiles, do you mind if I—”

Stiles blinks in confusion, then looks down and sees that Derek has slid a hand between them and is cupping himself through his jeans. “Oh, sure. Go ahead,” he says easily, because of course Derek would be turned on by his pheromones. And want release, too.

Derek shoves his shirt up, out of the way, and hurriedly yanks down the zipper of his pants, pulling himself out with a soft, relieved sound. He strokes himself quick and rough, and Stiles watches, mesmerized, at the way his abs ripple with the motion, then suddenly draw tight when Derek comes.

Seeing Derek’s orgasm sends a hot burst of arousal through Stiles, but it’s not enough to get him hard again, not yet.

Derek managed to come mostly on his stomach and hand, though a little ended up on Stiles’ sheets. Stiles can’t say he minds, really. And Derek’s scent has never been more appealing than it is now, with him covered in his own come. It makes him want to nuzzle in, get close enough to take a taste, but he resists the urge.

They lay quietly for a moment, then Derek says, “I need to get cleaned up.”

“Yeah, me too,” Stiles says, sitting up and watching Derek carefully wiggle out of his shirt. Now that he’s thinking about it, he realizes how sticky he feels.

Derek rolls out of bed, one hand holding up his still-unzipped jeans. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Stiles nods, and Derek heads out the door. Stiles hears him going down the stairs, so he heads to his own upstairs bathroom to change his underwear and wipe himself off.

He can still feel the effects of the heat running through him, though it’s muted. He knows it’s just a matter of time, though, before it’s back to full intensity.

He sits down on the edge of his bed, taking deep breaths. As much as he’d like to fully give into his heat-induced arousal, he’s just not ready yet. He trusts Derek, might even be falling in love with him, but he’s not quite ready to be that exposed, that _vulnerable_ with him.

Especially not now, when it feels like his body is out of his control.

Derek returns then, with buttered toast and a small bowl of fruit. “I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten anything today,” he says, handing the plate over.

“I haven’t,” Stiles says, shaking his head. He doubts he would have even gotten out of bed if Derek hadn’t been here. “Thank you.” He still feels out of sorts, but he nibbles on the toast and eats a few grapes. And, unsurprisingly, it does make him feel a little better.

He hadn’t realized he was hungry, but he knows the heat tends to transmute any sensation into a sort of longing ache that demands to be filled.

Derek sits next to him on the bed, snags a slice of apple out of bowl and crunches on it. Stiles suddenly notices that Derek’s wearing sweatpants now, and that must mean—

“You don’t have to stay,” he says, fingers brushing Derek’s thigh for a moment. “I’ll be okay. And I know it must be difficult—”

“It’s _not_ ,” Derek says firmly. “I want to be here with you, for as long as you want that.”

Derek moves to take the plate away, since he isn’t eating anymore, and that’s when Stiles realizes. “Hey, wait a minute. We don’t have any of this in our fridge,” he says, pointing at the bowl of fruit.

“No, I stopped by the store before I came here, just in case,” Derek says, his cheeks pink. “I brought a couple changes of clothes, too.”

“Good thinking,” Stiles says, because he was certainly in no state of mind to plan ahead. It suddenly occurs to him why Derek bought the fruit—omegas in heat have a reputation for craving sweet things, but Derek must have known that Stiles wouldn’t want to eat a bunch of candy—so he got a healthier option, instead. “I’m glad you came over.”

Derek’s soft smile in response makes Stiles want to kiss him, so he does. He keeps it light and sweet, though the pleasure sparking through him makes him want to push for more. He’s a strange combination of tired and energized, and he finds that he really just wants to curl up with his boyfriend. He breaks the kiss and leans into Derek, letting his eyes slide shut.

“Come on,” Derek says, sliding a hand through Stiles’ hair. “Let’s lay down.”

He lets Derek shift him down onto the bed, sighs in contentment when Derek’s arms slide around him and pull him close. He sleeps for a while, but eventually the heat wakes him up again.

He slips out of bed and manages to time the next wave of it while he’s in the shower. He ends up shaking so badly he has to sit down, but he’s able to get himself off. Then he rests in the shower spray while the relief spreads through him.

But the length of time he spends in there must worry Derek, because he knocks on the door several times. “Stiles, are you okay?”

“Fine, I’m fine,” Stiles says, turning off the shower so Derek can hear him. “Give me a minute.”

He dries himself and throws his clothes on, but the post-orgasm relaxation is hitting him hard. “You can come in now,” he mumbles to the door.

Derek was obviously waiting, because he’s in the bathroom in the next moment. He shakes his head at Stiles’ wet hair, and gently runs the towel over it, then combs it out with his fingers. “You don’t smell as strongly of your heat, now,” he says, touching Stiles’ cheek. “Do you think it’s almost over?”

“No,” Stiles says, letting Derek guide him back to his bedroom. He can still feel it pulsing under his skin, and it feels like it’s building up even faster than before. “Definitely not.” It ends up coming out on a sigh.

“You’ll get through this,” Derek says, pulling him into a hug. “It can’t last much longer.”

Stiles breathes in Derek’s scent, knows he’s right. He just hasn’t gone through this in _so long_ , and it’s really taking its toll on him.

They go downstairs and eat snacks and watch tv for a little while, and it’s almost like a regular day. Except that Stiles can feel the next wave rolling through him, can feel his arousal building as he gets hard, gets wet.

He scrambles off the couch and up the stairs, gasping, “Give me a little time before you come up,” as he hurries away.

He throws himself on his bed, his whole body aching for sensation, and he knows that he needs to be filled this time to be satisfied. He grinds his hips into the bed for a moment, softly groaning at how good it feels, before yanking open his bedside drawer.

He has the standard set of four plugs, the ones recommended for omegas going through a heat alone. Each of them is a different size, but Stiles has never actually used the largest one, has never needed to. He grabs the smallest one now, because as slick as he is, he knows he’s still tight.

He slides his hand into the back of his pants, teasing at his hole with the tip of the plug, and tries to muffle the sounds he’s making into his pillow. The pure pleasure he gets when he slowly pushes it inside makes him arch up, and for a second he thinks he’s going to come right then and there.

It’s not quite enough, though, and he jerks his hips desperately against the bed, wanting release. He feels overheated and overstimulated, but somehow he just wants _more_.

A tapping sound distracts him, and he glances over. He’d left the door open in his haste, so Derek is knocking on the frame instead, looking like he’s waiting for permission to come in.

“Derek,” Stiles rasps out, his whole body going electric at the sight of him. “Please.”

Derek’s by the bed in a heartbeat, his hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “What do you need?”

“Something,” Stiles mumbles out. “Something more like—” But he loses his train of thought when arousal spikes through him again.

“Okay,” Derek says, and rolls Stiles over onto his back.

It puts more pressure on the plug, and Stiles lets out a pleased moan, his legs spreading of their own accord. Then Derek fits himself between them, covering Stiles with his body and kissing him fiercely.

It’s just what Stiles has been craving, and it only gets better when Derek starts rocking his hips, grinding them together. It moves the plug inside him, just a little, and that sensation combined with the friction against his cock isn’t quite sex, but its close enough to meet Stiles’ needs.

He bends his knees, thighs bracketing Derek’s hips, and wraps his arms tightly around him. He has to break the kiss to take in big gulps of air, and he’s so close _it hurts_. Derek nips at his collarbone, kisses his neck, and then suddenly picks up speed, pressing his body down tight against Stiles’.

It’s just enough, and Stiles finally comes, so hard he’s sure his hips lift off the bed, and clenches tight around the plug. Through his aftershocks he feels Derek shudder through his own orgasm, making a low sound of pleasure as he does.

They lay there for a while, just breathing, and Stiles finds that he’s smiling.

 

*

 

Derek stays the night, sleeping curled around Stiles, but leaves in the morning. Though not before giving Stiles several kisses and a promise to be back in a few days, after Stiles has had time to recover.

Stiles doesn’t feel as wrung-out by his heat as he expected, but he suspects that’s because Derek made sure he ate, and let him doze off on his shoulder so many times. He does feel a little weak, a little shaky, but he knows that’s probably because of dehydration.

He’s on the couch drinking water when his dad comes home, and Stiles gets the entertainment of his dad trying to ask how his heat went, while clearly wanting absolutely no details. It at least distracts him from how much he’s already missing Derek.

“It went fine, dad,” Stiles says, trying to hide his grin by taking another sip.

“Good,” his dad says awkwardly, then ducks into the kitchen. “I’m glad.”

And Stiles is, too—it might have been so much worse without Derek there with him. He’d made his heat far more bearable, and he finds he’s not so afraid of his next one.

 

*

 

Thinking about the way he’d spent his heat with Derek makes him want to go further. Though he’s considered—and imagined—having sex with Derek while keeping his shirt on, he wants to be more comfortable with his own body. Wants Derek to see him as he is.

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait for your next heat?” Derek asks, when Stiles brings it up a couple of days later.

It’s traditional for alpha-omega couples to wait for a heat before having sex for the first time, mostly because it ensures arousal and mutual pleasure for both, rather than having awkward or uncomfortable sex. But Stiles isn’t exactly traditional.

“My heat wasn’t very comfortable for me,” Stiles says, shaking his head. “And there’s no guarantee that the next one will be better. I want to be with you, but not while my body is so…” he trails off, not sure how to finish. “I just want to be able to focus, and not be so overwhelmed by everything else.”

“Okay,” Derek says, nodding and looking thoughtful. “When do you want—” he starts to ask, but Stiles figures he answers the question when he slides into Derek’s lap and starts kissing him.

His bravado doesn’t last long, though. As soon as Derek’s land on his hips, his thumbs brushing the soft curve of Stiles’ stomach, he tenses up. All of his old fears come flooding back, and despite all the affection Derek as shown him, he’s abruptly terrified that Derek will change his mind about wanting to be with him.

Derek feels it right away, and breaks the kiss even as he moves his hands up to Stiles’ shoulders.

“Sorry,” Stiles says, hiding his face against Derek’s neck.

Derek kisses his jaw. “I don’t think this is something you can rush,” he says quietly. “It’s just going to take time.”

Stiles is pretty sure he’s right.

 

*

 

They get a little further next time.

It’s not until Derek’s hands slip under his shirt, his palms hot against Stiles’ sides, that Stiles stiffens and breaks their kiss. He takes a ragged breath, trying to calm his racing heart.

Derek pulls away, looking worried, and Stiles touches his wrist, smiling a little. “I’m still working on it,” he says. “Can I just?” he asks, tugging at the hem of Derek’s shirt. “Will you let me—”

Derek shrugs out of his shirt, lets Stiles push him back on the bed. Stiles fits his hands to the curve of Derek’s ribs, dips down to trace the line of his collarbone with his lips. He drags his hands across Derek’s abs, feeling them flutter under his palm, and dips his fingers under the waistband of Derek’s jeans, liking the way he shivers.

Derek lets Stiles touch his fill. And that’s good, because Stiles is still afraid this might end, but if it’s going to, he at least wants to _see_ Derek, to appreciate his beauty. If there’s nothing else, at least he’ll have this.

 

*

 

With the help of some research (and a conversation with his therapist), Stiles figures out a plan.

“I want you to touch me,” he says, the next time Derek comes over. “Like I did with you.”

“Okay,” Derek says, and looks amused when Stiles pushes him down on the bed and climbs into his lap.

Stiles takes Derek’s hands, guides them to rest on his hips. “Okay?” he says, resting his arms on Derek’s shoulders. “Go ahead.” This time he doesn’t kiss Derek, just watches his face intently.

“Under the shirt?” Derek asks, and Stiles nods.

He keeps watching as Derek caresses his sides, as his palms slide across to touch Stiles’ stomach and hips. There’s no trace of disgust in Derek’s expression, none at all, and as he keeps touching Stiles, he instead starts to look more and more turned on.

Stiles gasps a little when Derek’s thumbs brush his nipples, his back arching, and Derek says, “Do you want to lay down?”

Stiles nods, and yanks his shirt off before he loses his nerve. Moving makes him realize how wet he’s gotten, and he flushes a little, because he knows Derek must be able to smell it. He’s just never been touched this way before, and it’s affecting him more than he expected.

Derek leans over him once he’s settled on his back, gives him a slow, hot kiss as his hands return to Stiles’ chest. He straddles Stiles’ hips, and moves his lips to Stiles’ jaw, then his neck. He licks and kisses his way down Stiles’ body, and spends a particular amount of time on Stiles’ belly, as if he’s trying to prove to Stiles that there’s nothing wrong with it.

But that means that by the time Derek’s lips reach the edge of his waistband, Stiles is incredibly aroused. He’d originally planned to stop here, and try doing more on another day, but finds that he feels ready _now_.

He wants Derek, and Derek wants him, and Stiles doesn’t see why they should wait any more. He cups Derek’s jaw, gets him to lift his head. “Help me get these off,” he says, already unbuttoning his jeans.

“Stiles, do you—” Derek starts, his hands frozen on Stiles’ hips.

“I want to try, Derek. Please?” Stiles says, shoving his pants down. “I want to have sex with you. I want you to knot me.”

Derek muffles his groan against Stiles’ stomach, then helps him get his jeans all the way off. He slides off the bed to get undressed, and Stiles watches avidly as he inches his boxers down. Derek’s back in moments, completely naked, and presses his face to the front of Stiles’ underwear, breathing in deeply.

“You smell so good,” he murmurs. “I bet you taste even better.”

“You can find out later,” Stiles says, squirming a little because he can’t bear to wait much longer.

Derek helps him get his boxers all the way off, looking amused at Stiles’ haste. But Stiles can see how hard Derek is, knows he’s just as eager.

“Just let me make sure,” Derek says, his hand sliding up the inside of Stiles’ thigh. “That you’re ready.”

Stiles has been aching to have something inside him, so when Derek’s finger brushes his hole, he bucks his hips up into it. Derek gets the hint and slowly pushes it inside, and though it’s nowhere near enough, Stiles still makes a low, pleased sound. Then a louder one when Derek adds a second finger and begins to stretch him open.

It doesn’t take long, because Stiles is _really_ into this, and how turned on Derek seems to be from just touching him is only arousing him more.

Derek slips his fingers out, and takes a little lick, eyes on Stiles’ face as he does. “You do taste good,” he says, settling his body between Stiles’ thighs.

Stiles feels the head of Derek’s cock bump against him, and he says, “Yes, _come on_.”

Derek smiles a little, and begins to press inside. Despite the time he took, it’s still a tight fit, and Stiles can _feel_ himself opening up around Derek. It’s amazing, to be filled up just the way he’s been wanting, and he grabs at Derek’s hips once he’s all the way inside, keeping him there for a moment.

Once he’s adjusted, he rolls his hips experimentally, and it makes little sparks of pleasure run down his spine. Derek makes a quiet noise against his neck and begins to move, too. He starts slow and easy at first, little tiny movements, and it’s definitely working, because Stiles can feel himself getting slicker around Derek.

It lets Derek begin to thrust, and Stiles arches up into it, wanting more. “Faster,” he manages to get out, because Derek’s not giving him quite enough.

Derek speeds up, and Stiles groans, clutching at his shoulders. It’s almost too good now, and it’s pushing him straight toward orgasm. Derek kisses his neck, and shortens his thrusts, until he’s just grinding hard and fast against Stiles.

“I’m gonna come,” he grits out. “Are you sure—”

“ _Yes_ ,” Stiles says eagerly.

Derek surges forward as deep as he can, and Stiles jolts when the pressure inside him suddenly increases, feels Derek stretching him open. Derek’s panting into his neck now, and with a few more fast, ragged jerks of his hips he’s coming, his whole body shuddering against Stiles as he does.

Derek’s knot is pulsing inside him, pressing in just the right spot almost too intensely, so Stiles wraps a hand around his cock, just to ground himself. But it’s the last bit of sensation he needs, and he rolls his hips as he quickly strokes himself. His orgasm hits hard, prolonged by feeling of Derek inside him, and he trembles through it for a long time. He thinks Derek might have come again, but he’s not sure.

He’s a warm, heavy weight on top of Stiles, but it’s surprisingly comfortable. He likes the way they fit together.

“You okay?” Derek asks once he finally catches his breath. “You need me to move?”

“I feel good,” Stiles says quietly, resting his hands on Derek’s hips. “Let’s stay like this.”

“Okay,” Derek says, and Stiles can hear the fondness in his voice.

Derek spends the entire time they’re tied together giving him soft, sweet kisses, and Stiles has never felt more loved.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come by and prompt me/talk to me [ on tumblr](http://dragon-temeraire.tumblr.com/).


End file.
